


Impossible May

by darkangel0410



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Magical Realism, Mates, fuck-or-die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:39:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/pseuds/darkangel0410
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete has gone through his whole life painfully aware of the fact that if he doesn't find his mate by the time he was twenty-one, he'll die. He's resigned himself to his fate, but then he happens onto Patrick at a show. He only has one month left to convince Patrick that they belong together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impossible May

**Author's Note:**

> This is the least porny fuck-or-die ever. I'm so sorry.

Most people couldn't wait for their twenty-first birthday; they wanted to be adults, to be able to go get a drink whenever they felt like it. They wanted to be free to do whatever they wanted, when they wanted.

 

Pete kept an eye on the calender, too, but for a completely different reason.

 

*

 

He was fourteen when his parents sat him down to explain what your twenty-first birthday meant in their family.

 

It was three days before he came out of his room and another two before he said anything.

 

The “I will never forgive you for this,” was so low that it took a second for it to sink in. By the time it did, Pete was already back upstairs.

 

*

 

By the time he was sixteen, Pete had taken an aggressive approach to his problem; he had started sleeping his way through the greater Chicago area's music scene. His father had explained to him that he would know his mate almost on sight and would definitely know it when he touched their skin.

 

Pete made sure to touch as much skin as he could. Ironically, the same heritage that had gotten him into this mess (Incubus, Fae and human; apparently one of his ancestors had been part Incubus and part Fae and all stupid; he had spurned an Unseelie Sidhe for a human, which had then resulted in that long ago ancestor's entire line being cursed) also made him extremely sexually appealing to humans.

 

He enjoyed himself because he figured he might as well get some pleasure out of the entire thing.

 

But Pete always had that calender in the back of his mind, constantly marking off the days.

 

*

 

When Pete was eighteen he tried to kill himself.

 

A handful of sleeping pills in his mother's car in the middle of a Best Buy parking lot, with a sad song playing in the background. A last minute phone call to his father to inform him -bitterly and scathingly, the words starting to slur together as the medicine took affect- that he would choose when and how he died, and not wait around for some centuries old curse to do the job. Pete took a vicious satisfaction in his father's frantic questions asking him where he was, what had he taken; it was, after all, his father's long ago ancestor that had set in motion what was happening now.

 

Pete could appreciate the overall tragic, Grimm Brothers fairy tale-esqueness of the whole thing, if nothing else. 

 

When he woke up in the hospital, surrounded by his family, he just sighed and closed his eyes again.

 

“Why did you even bother?” Pete asked dully. “I'll be dead in three years; there's nothing that can stop the inevitable, remember?”

 

They were the last words he spoke for the next three months.

 

*

 

By the time he was twenty, Pete had resigned himself to his fate. He wrung every bit of fun he could out of the days he had left. He didn't want to reach his twenty-first birthday and leave anything undone.

 

When the end of April rolled around, Pete was almost manically cheerful; only one month left, after all, and being depressed and pissy wasn't going to make anything easier. He would play it cool, be happy and spend his last few days having a good time. This was the end of the line for him and it had taken him years to accept it; he was almost looking forward to it with the same kind of weary happiness that people had toward their homes after being on vacation for too long.

 

Of course, that was when he met Patrick.

 

*

 

He was at a friend's show, just losing himself in the frantic beat of the music and the pulse of the crowd.

 

There was a sudden surge of motion towards the stage, Pete lost his balance, stumbled into a group of people off to the side and ended up on his ass, looking up at the bemused faces of three strangers and Joe.

 

“Shit, sorry,” Pete apologized with a grin. “Lost my balance.”

 

“Jesus, Wentz, spaz much?” Joe snickered while Pete rolled his eyes.

 

“It's no problem,” one of the others said; Pete felt something stir in his stomach at the sound of that voice and focused on the person responsible almost without realizing it.

 

He was short, an inch or two shorter than his own 5'7 Pete guessed; wearing skinny jeans and a faded 504Plan shirt; his hair was tucked under a trucker hat, a few strands of reddish blond escaping from underneath the brim. Amused blue-green eyes met his as he held a hand out to help pull Pete off the ground.

 

Pete reached up for it even as his brain was telling him _no, don't; not real if you don't touch him, nononoNO_ ; a warm, rough hand wrapped around his (callouses; drums and guitar, if Pete was any judge) and Pete was completely unsurprised at the feeling that slammed into him; the gut deep certainty that this was _him_ , the long awaited for mate, the one that was meant for him, that would save him. Pete felt every part of his consciousness focus on the person in front of him; felt his heartbeat sync up to his and the insane urge to wrap himself around his body to make sure he stayed safe.

 

“Pete. _Pete_.”

 

Pete blinked and realized he had a death grip on a strangers hand ( _mate_ , his mind thrummed; that alien, inhuman part of him that was usually so easily ignored and forgotten was now in the forefront and Pete wasn't sure if he was more pissed or terrified at the change); Joe's voice was both amused and worried and Pete knew without being told just how much of a creeper he was acting. As he looked around, he saw that the other two guys had wandered off, leaving the three of them alone.

 

“Uh, sorry,” he apologized again and if he had the right skin tone for it, he would have been bright red. “I just got distracted or something, I guess.”

 

Joe didn't look convinced but he let it go without an argument, so Pete counted it as a win. “Uh-huh. Since I doubt you heard it the first time, Pete this is my friend, Patrick Stump. Patrick, Pete Wentz.”

 

“Hey,” Pete said, his voice rough. He smiled and tried -and hopefully succeed- to appear interested instead of just desperate. 

 

“Hey,” Patrick repeated and briefly looked Pete over; he was subtle about it, but Pete could feel his gaze like a brand over his skin. “You still have a hold of my hand, dude.”

 

“Fuck,” Pete cursed and let go even though what he really wanted to do was throw himself at Patrick and scent mark him to keep everyone else away from him.

 

_What the fuck,_ Pete thought, completely freaked out for a second. _Could this whole thing get any weirder?_

 

“I didn't say I wanted you to stop,” Patrick smirked and raised an eyebrow at Joe's dramatic huff.

 

“I'm out of here, guys; no offense, but I'm not going to stand around and watch you two hit on each other when I could be getting laid instead,” Joe told them as he caught the eye of one of the women drinking by the bar. “Talk to you later.”

 

Pete stared at Patrick's profile and tried to think of a way to get his number, maybe his address; _anything_ about him so Pete could find him again, could convince him -

 

“So, you don't have a boyfriend, do you? Or, you know, a girlfriend?” Patrick asked, a small smile twisting his lips. “I really don't do the whole cheating thing, like, at all, so I'd appreciate an honest answer.” 

 

“No, there's... There's no one,” Pete answered, grinning; maybe this whole thing would end up being a little easier than he originally thought. 

 

“Awesome,” Patrick said and wrapped sure fingers around Pete's wrist so he could tug him a little closer. “You have a phone?”

 

The words were said into Pete's ear, the tone low and smooth; Pete wordlessly dug his phone out of his pocket and offered it to him.

 

Patrick dropped Pete's wrist for the phone and for a minute Pete wanted to whimper and beg until Patrick touched him again. He mentally shook himself and decided he would need to talk to his father about this again. 

 

“Here,” Patrick passed the phone back over. “I've got to leave early tonight, I caught a ride out here with a friend, but give me a call later on, maybe we could hang out this week or something.”

 

“Fuck, yeah, we will,” Pete assured him with a smug smile, some of his normal equilibrium reasserting itself. 

 

“Talk to you later then,” Patrick told him as he turned to go; he gave Pete one last glance over his shoulder and then he got lost among the crowd still milling around.

 

Pete's eyes stayed on him, unable to stop himself from watching until he was out of sight. And even then, he had this urge to trail after him so he could stay close.

 

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Pete narrowed his eyes; it was definitely time to talk to his dad again.

 

*

 

“Pete, what are you doing home?”

 

Pete looked up from the text he was sending Patrick - _u. me. movis. y/y_ \- at his father's words; he glanced back down to send the text and then focused his attention back on the older man.

 

“Dad, when you met Mom was it, like, weird or anything?”

 

“Weird,” Peter repeated, frowning a little. He sat on the couch next to his oldest son, the glass of water he had come downstairs for temporarily forgotten. “In what context?”

 

“Like, did you want to follow after her like you were a dog or whatever?” Pete asked and ducked his head so he wouldn't have to look at him.

 

Peter paused for a second; he had thought that his oldest son would be permanently lost to him after this month, but if he was asking these questions, if he thought he had met his mate, that meant there was still a chance. Pete was hunched over, body language defensive, clearly uncomfortable, so Peter bit back the questions that were almost burning his throat.

 

“Nothing quite that dramatic; I did want to spend time with her, of course, and I thought of her frequently. 

 

“It did become more intense the closer I got to my birthday,” he added carefully. “I found myself making excuses to touch her, to make sure she was close to me. I used to swear that I could pick her heartbeat out of a crowd, but that may have just been my anxiety talking.” 

 

Pete nodded slowly, his thoughts clouded; it just figured that there would be a way to make this even more complicated than it already was.

 

His phone vibrated and Pete smiled when he saw Patrick's name flash across the screen.

 

_If this is Pete, sure. Anyone else, fuck off and stop texting me at one in the morning._

 

_yea, its me. tmrrw ok? srry if i wke u up, ddnt realze wht time it was._

 

_Tomorrow's good. Afternoon or night? And don't worry about it, I wasn't sleeping yet, the noise just startled me._

 

When Pete looked up almost an hour later, his father wasn't there and he felt just a little bit better about the whole situation.

 

*

 

Almost a week later and Pete couldn't help but be cautiously hopeful; he had hung out with Patrick twice (to see the Halloween remake and to a show with Joe's new band, followed by pancakes at Denny's) and talked to him every day.

 

And now he had Patrick pressed against a wall in the alley behind some shitty club where one of Pete's friends were playing; one hand on Patrick's hip and the other fisted in the hair below his hat, holding him still while they kissed lazily.

 

“Christ, 'Trick, your _mouth_ ,” Pete murmured as he pulled back enough to bite Patrick's bottom lip.

 

“Tell me something I don't know,” Patrick smirked despite the flush coloring his face. “Your's isn't so bad, either.”

 

“You guys out here?” Joe called, opening the door and sticking his head out. “Come on, we're getting ready to leave.

 

“Oh, am I interrupting?” Joe crowed gleefully once he got a good look at the two of them. “My bad. Please, please, continue while I patiently wait on the other side of this door, well within hearing distance.”

 

“Trohman, you fucken cockblock,” Pete ground out as Joe ducked back inside, laughing hysterically. 

 

“Fucker,” Patrick agreed fervently and dropped his head back against the wall. He eyed Pete up for a second before he cleared his throat.

 

“So, my parents are going out of town this weekend, do you wanna hang out? Spend the night maybe or something?” 

 

“Yeah,” Pete grinned and dipped his head for a quick, dirty kiss. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

 

“Awesome,” Patrick grinned back at him and then shook his head when he heard Joe making obscene noises on the other side of the door.

 

Pete rolled his eyes but the smile stayed on his face. “Come on, we better go before Joe hurts himself.”

 

He laced his fingers with Patrick's and they headed inside.

 

*

 

_Just two and a half weeks left,_ Pete reminded himself as he waited for Patrick to answer the door. _I can do this; I **have** to do this. I'll tell Patrick the truth and then whatever happens, happens. _

 

Patrick opened the door with a phone pressed to his ear; he smiled and waved Pete inside while he kept talking.

 

“No, I'm not going anywhere this weekend, asshole,” Patrick rolled his eyes and mouthed 'Joe' at Pete. “Yeah, exactly; I'm going to stay here and get laid and you can go fuck off.”

 

Pete chuckled and looked around the living room while Patrick said goodbye to Joe; some pictures on the mantle caught his eye -Patrick at various ages and ones of someone who resembled him too closely to be anything other than family.

 

“My older brother Kevin,” Patrick told him with an exasperated fondness in his voice that Pete understood completely. “He's in California, got accepted to UCLA a few years ago. He's already planning on staying there after graduation.

 

“Sorry about that,” Patrick went on as he put his cell into the pocket of his jeans. “It was just Joe being a jackass as usual.”

 

Pete gave into the urge he'd had since Patrick opened the door; he turned and kissed him, tracing the outline of Patrick's lips with his tongue until Patrick moaned and he took that as permission to deepen the kiss.

 

“Hi,” he murmured when they broke apart to breathe. 

 

“Hi,” Patrick echoed and he smirked despite the way his whole face was flushed. “Want to go upstairs?”

 

Pete's stomach suddenly churned and he knew it was now or never. “Yeah, of course.”

 

*

 

“Get out,” Patrick told him, his voice flat. “I can't believe you would -just go. Please.”

 

Pete left. What else was there to do at that point?

 

*

 

Pete laid in his bed and stared at the wall; only three more days until it was all over.

 

His whole body _ached_ with the need to go find Patrick, but Pete refused to give in to it; Patrick had told him to stay away from him and if that was the last thing Pete could ever do for him, then he would be damned if he fucked this up, too.

 

He heard someone come up the steps to the attic; Pete didn't bother turning over when the door opened. It was probably just his parents to try to convince him to call Patrick again or go over to his house.

 

Pete mentally scoffed, like that would -

 

“Wow, dude. Have you even moved out of that bed this week?”

 

At the sound of Patrick's voice, Pete jerked and smacked his elbow against the wall when he turned onto his back.

 

“Patrick,” Pete said in disbelief. “You're _here_.”

 

“Yeah, I, uh, wanted to talk to you,” Patrick told him, his voice hesitant. “You know, if you still thought I was...”

 

“My mate,” Pete finished when Patrick trailed off; he shifted around until he was sitting up and patted the bed for Patrick to settle down next to him. “And, yeah, you are; no matter how much you might hate the idea.”

 

“Yeah, about that,” Patrick took a deep breath before he went on, “I wanted to say I'm sorry; I shouldn't have thrown you out like that. I was pissed and I still think I had a right to be, but doing that was shitty, so, sorry.”

 

“It's alright, I understand,” Pete assured him, smiling a little bit; even if his death was still eminent, he couldn't help but be happy that he got to talk to Patrick one more time.

 

“And this mate thing, I wanted to talk to you about that, too,” Patrick paused for long enough that Pete thought he wasn't going to say anything after all. 

 

“I thought you were lying to me and that pissed me off; I mean, it's pretty far out there. And I got myself worked up because every time I thought of you it would make me furious again. It took me almost all week to calm down.

 

“Once I was able to, I realized I was miserable; I missed you and that made me mad all over again, I was convinced that you trapped me or _made_ me feel this way. It took me a couple hours to calm down enough to actually think clearly.

 

“And I decided I wanted to talk to you, find out what the fuck was going on -but I couldn't find you. No one had seen you in days and then Joe told me you weren't answering your phone for him, either; it took me a couple days to get your address from Joe and then a few more to get up the balls to come over here.

 

“Which, thanks for scaring the shit out of me, asshole; I thought you, like, skipped town or something.”

 

“Sorry,” Pete apologized, but it was hard to stop grinning like an idiot every time Patrick looked at him. 

 

Even if nothing had really changed, Patrick was still _here_ , was still sitting next to him and it was all Pete could do to keep from reaching over and touching him.

 

_Mine_ , the non-human part of his mind hummed; as much as Pete hated that part of himself, he was forced to agree with it right now. 

 

Patrick smirked at him fondly and shook his head before he grew serious again. “OK, I wanted to asked you a couple questions -if that's allowed?” he added, suddenly looking unsure.

 

“You're allowed to do whatever you want,” Pete told him honestly and unconsciously moved closer to him. 

 

“So, this mate...thing, what is it? Like, how do you know it's real?”

 

“Well,” Pete paused for a long second and tried to figure out where to start; _better to just start at the very beginning_ , he decided.

 

“One of my Dad's ancestors was Fae; well, part Incubus and part Fae, and, wow, that sounds fucken ridiculous when you say it out loud,” Pete mused and then shrugged.

 

“Anyway, according to family legend, he -my dad's however many greats grandfather- used to sleep around a lot; he was supposedly a charming bastard, but fickle, you know? Always had to be moving onto the next, most times before the bed from the last one was even cold yet.

 

“You'd think it would have pissed someone off, but the Fae are different than us; they don't have the same rules about sex or monogamy, especially like it was back then, so they mostly didn't care and things went on like that for...however many years.

 

“And then he met a girl,” Pete said and exchanged a wry grin with Patrick. “He met a girl and fell in love with her, but she was human and he very obviously wasn't. She didn't understand the way he was, how he could be so free with something that her religion and people said were suppose to be between man and wife. But she loved him, same as he did her, and wanted to be with him.

 

“So, he decided to marry her the way humans did and pledged himself to her and only her, and moved into a cottage with her; he farmed the land and was happy to live a simple life, as long as he was with her.

 

“Every once in awhile he would go back to the sithen -a place where Faeries lived,” Pete paused to explain when Patrick shot him a confused look; other than that brief moment of confusion, Patrick seemed to be taking the story in, giving Pete all of his attention. Pete mentally preened at the realization, every part of him pleased with the idea. 

 

“Because even though he loved her with everything he was, he was still Fae and still Incubus, and part of him always mourned for his home,” he continued on, companionably brushing his arm against the other man's. 

 

“One day, while his wife was asleep, he slipped away on one of his visits and there he ran into one of his old lovers who propositioned him and when he turned them down and swore to the Goddess that he would never touch another besides his wife, even after she died, they cursed him. Because the Fae may not care about who or what you fucked, but they hate rejection more than most do.

 

“Well, really, cursed everyone else in his family,” Pete said, his voice bitter. “If we don't find our mate by the time we turn twenty-one, we die.” 

 

Patrick squeezed his shoulder comfortingly before he said, “Are you sure it's, like, actual, physical death? Couldn't they be referring to something -”

 

“My father's the youngest of five,” Pete interrupted softly, but with no less bitterness than before. “And I only have one aunt on that side of the family; both of his brothers and his other sister dropped dead on their twenty-first birthdays. Surprise heart failure was the official verdict, I believe. Of course, it stops being a _surprise_ when it happens almost every generation.”

 

Patrick nodded slowly as if confirming something to himself; Pete watched eagerly, almost hungry for him after so much time away.

 

“So you said mate, what exactly does it mean? Is it like friends or...” Patrick trailed off when Pete looked at him with a sad smile.

 

“No, it means _mate_ mate, soul mate is probably what they would call it if the curse was cast now,” Pete answered; he tried to tell what Patrick was thinking but his face was blank and Pete couldn't figure him out. “My birthday's on the fifth, so -”

 

“The _fifth_ ,” Patrick repeated, his voice angry; he stood up suddenly and Pete couldn't help the way his hand darted out, grabbing onto the leg of Patrick's jeans before he knew what happened. Patrick looked down at him with a slight smirk that made Pete blush and let go. “That's only three days away; what were you going to do, just lay here and – and _die_?”

 

Pete looked away and bit his lip; he wasn't going to lie but there was no way he could look Patrick in the face and tell him the truth.

 

“You -” Patrick faltered for the first time since they had started this conversation, apparently at a loss to find enough words to convey how idiotic he found Pete right now.

 

He shook his head and looked down at Pete for a long second before he seemed to come to a decision.

 

“I still don't understand this curse thing,” Patrick said thoughtfully. “And, for the record, I'm still a little pissed about this whole, uh, situation -it doesn't give anyone involved any kind of choice and that's really shitty, but I,” he paused briefly and licked his lips while he tried to decide exactly what he wanted to say; he grinned to himself when Pete's eyes followed the movement.

 

“I can't imagine you not being here, not being able to argue with you or text you whenever I want to; just the idea of you being _gone_ , forever, is just something that I can't deal with. I don't want to know what it's like to think of you and feel this, this hollow place in my chest get worse and know that it's permanent. 

 

“So, I'm telling you yes; I want to be with you, be your, uh, mate -although, dude, if you ever call me that in public, I will beat the shit out of you, fair warning.”

 

Pete gaped up at him, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. “I -you -really?”

 

“Also, I'd really like to get laid, so if you could help me with that...” Patrick trailed off suggestively. 

 

He rolled his eyes when Pete just kept staring at him; he sat back down on the bed and brushed his mouth over Pete's. It was brief, but there was no mistaking the intent behind it.

 

Pete made a startled noise and then grabbed Patrick's shirt and pulled him closer; they fell onto the bed, Pete moved over until his back was to the wall and Patrick could lay down alongside him.

 

“Really?” Pete repeated as he pulled back to breathe.

 

“Yes, really,” Patrick assured him before he tilted his head and bit Pete's lip.

 

*

 

“So,” Patrick panted a while later, after Pete collapsed onto his chest and they were both trying to remember how to breathe again. “Not that I'm complaining about the mutual blowjobs because Jesus fuck, your _mouth_ , but what exactly does that, uh, curse thing say?

 

“I mean, if you dropped dead in a couple days because we didn't get around to doing whatever, it would suck ass. I'd probably end up shooting myself.”

 

Pete rubbed his cheek across Patrick's chest before he lifted his head. “Um, the curse just says that I have to have sex with my mate. Well, originally it said that I have to find my mate and have my wedding night before my twenty-first birthday.

 

“But my parents didn't get married until they were both done with college, so.”

 

“Well, I guess we'll just have to try a little bit of everything then,” Patrick mused with a filthy grin.

 

“No wonder you're my favorite,” Pete said gleefully as he stole another kiss.

 

Patrick moaned softly and slipped his hand into Pete's hair; he held Pete there as he deepened the kiss, pulling back only when he needed to come up for air. Pete made an unhappy noise and tried to catch Patrick's lips for another kiss.

 

“God, look at you,” Patrick murmured; he pulled Pete's head back enough so that he could reach up and scrape his teeth down Pete's jaw. He stopped to suck a bruise where Pete's neck met his jaw and then pulled back to rest his head on the pillow. 

 

“So hard already,” Patrick trailed the fingers of his free hand over the hard line of Pete's dick, making him moan and strain against the hold Patrick had on his hair, “So eager for it. I bet you look gorgeous when you're getting fucked.”

 

“Patrick,” Pete said breathlessly, his tone begging. “I want -”

 

“Oh, I know what you want,” Patrick interrupted with a smirk. He carefully flipped them over -the bed was only a double and falling off of it was one of the least sexy things he could imagine- and situated himself between Pete's legs. “You want me to hold you down and fuck you into next week, don't you?”

 

“I – yeah,” Pete agreed with a small groan as Patrick rubbed his thumb over the head of Pete's dick; he tried to thrust up into the touch, trying to get more contact but Patrick just tightened his grip on Pete's hip and kept him pinned to the bed. “Fuck, _Patrick_.”

 

Patrick pressed down on top of Pete, making sure his erection rubbed against Pete's. “Where's the lube?” 

 

“In the - _fuck_ ,” Pete hissed, arching up into the friction of Patrick's dick sliding along his. “In the drawer,” he gestured towards the nightstand next to the bed.

 

Patrick opened the drawer and fished the bottle of Wet out; he poured some onto his fingers, then dropped the bottle onto the floor and teasingly pressed his fingertips against Pete's entrance.

 

He braced himself on his left arm so he could bite at Pete's jaw and mouth while he carefully worked one finger into him. 

 

“Fuck, yeah,” Pete said as Patrick pulled out and then came back with two fingers pressed inside him; he shoved his hips down onto Patrick's fingers and smirked when Patrick let out a startled noise.

 

“Don't think I didn't notice that,” Patrick warned as he glanced up at Pete; he pinned Pete to the bed with one hand on his hip while Patrick slowly stretched him until he was up to three fingers and Pete was straining against his hold, barely coherent and cursing him.

 

“Please, Patrick,” Pete begged, moving his hips as much as he could. “Fuck, I need you, come on, fuck me, _please_.”

 

Patrick bit Pete's lip before he brushed his fingertips against Pete's prostate, making him gasp. “Come on, Pete, I know you can beg better than that.”

 

*

 

When Pete was twenty-one, he spent his birthday asleep, curled up around his mate. 

 

 

 


End file.
